


Narcissus

by thelonelygardener



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Baker Sugawara Koushi, Depressed Oikawa Tooru, Explicit Language, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Funny, Haikyuu - Freeform, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru Friendship, M/M, Mentioned Bokuto Koutarou, Mentioned Kuroo Tetsurou, Mentioned Semi Eita, Mentioned Shirabu Kenjirou, Mentioned Ushijima Wakatoshi, Mild Sexual Content, No Beta, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pro Volleyball Player Oikawa Tooru, Rarepair, Romantic Angst, Romantic Comedy, Sad Oikawa Tooru, Sassy Sugawara Koushi, Slice of Life, We Die Like Men, relationship trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23868499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonelygardener/pseuds/thelonelygardener
Summary: Oikawa had always thought of himself as a tree. A faculty for growth, an entity grounded in natural talent, determination, and resilience.How seamlessly his injury uprooted him made him realize how foolish he’d been all this time.----------Former Olympic hopeful and National Team member Oikawa Tooru is eight months post a career ending knee injury, and finds himself visiting his best friend in the few months leading up to his wedding. Trying to find purpose amidst the aftermath of his recovery, he finds himself spending the summer living in the country, far away from the old life he held back in Tokyo. Crossing paths with the gorgeous owner of the bakery? Well that definitely wasn’t a part of the plan. Then again, Oikawa hardly had a plan to begin with.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Iwaizumi Hajime/Sawamura Daichi, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi, Past Semi Eita/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 54
Kudos: 117





	1. Imbibition

**Author's Note:**

> It’s August when Oikawa finds himself on a train headed east from Tokyo, Kyonan a three hour reality ahead of him in the distance.

That noise still resounds in his eardrums, during untimely hours when he knows he should very well be sleeping. It’s a bitter memory, one he recounts with unwelcome clarity. He remembers the deafening silence that followed, how the smack of him hitting the floor reverberated through the gym. Every player, coach, and referee on that court _knew_ that sound, it’s echo a notorious omen. 

He’d stayed there, a crumpled heap that could only listen to the gasps of shock amalgamating with the rough shouts and sneakers screeching around him. The cacophony of panic and urgency turned to a drone as it overwhelmed his ears, becoming background to the maddening repetition of that sound, that pop. It rang in his skull, rattling his brain till he simply could no longer endure the burden of thought. He knew that sound, and he could hardly bear its consequence. 

**Breaking News: January**

_“This just in, Olympic candidate Oikawa Tooru of the Men’s National Volleyball team has possibly torn his ACL.”_

_“Incoming report from the International Sports Network, Oikawa Tooru indefinitely out with injury, possibly for the rest of the year.”_

_“ESPN Japan reporting live from Yoyogi National Gymnasium. National team starting setter Oikawa Tooru down with what seems to be a knee injury of some sorts. Coming back with full details in tomorrow morning's news!”_

_“Olympic Channel here, broadcasting live from Tokyo at the Men’s World Grand Champions Cup at the Japan v. Brazil semi-final match. In the whirlwind of chaos on the court here, we have off to my left, star setter Oikawa Tooru getting carried off for additional medical attention after what looked to be a possible knee injury mid play. A top prospect for the Japanese Olympic Team, you can certainly feel the tension of uncertainty in the atmosphere here tonight...”_

**4 Months Later: May**

_“Japan Times here from JVA’s official Men’s Olympic Volleyball Team decision conference, reporting the first draft picks for the team that will represent Japan at this year’s Summer Olympic Games! Coach Yuichi Nakagaichi giving the final listing now.”_

_“It is with great excitement and anticipation we all find ourselves here today, but this must be preceded with a note of unfortunance. With the detriment of a debilitating injury four months prior, it is with great disappointment we, the Japanese Volleyball Association, announce the untimely, official retirement of Oikawa Tooru, and his withdrawal from the 2020 Summer Olympic roster. Filling his place will be National Team B member Miya Atsumu. Following suit-”_

His laptop snapped shut sharply through the darkness of his bedroom. Even three months later, the ubiquity of his new reality was difficult to come to terms with. Even when things glare you dead in the face, it can be hard to look them in the eyes. This sentiment was vindicated by the stiffness in his right knee. And that noise, the fucking popping. Always starting as he spiraled. God, he could still hardly bear it. 

**8 Months Later: August**

It was an early summer morning, the signs of what would turn out to be a humid day clinging to Oikawa’s arms as he trudged through the thickening air of the train station. Bustling Monday commuters scurried to the primary platforms, trains that would get you anywhere you needed in Tokyo. It dawned on him he was one of these folk not long ago, rushing to catch the line down to Yoyogi Park for mandated team weekly conditioning. He scuffled past the familiar track, not giving into the temptation of glancing back at his old normal. That was the past, and his now was beyond track H.

As he went further down the alphabet system of the station, the crowds began to thin, till he came upon a few fellow bystanders at track S. From L onward were designated trains leaving Tokyo, an area invariably occupied by no more than thirty or so patrons during morning rush hour. We hadn’t often found himself in this area of the station, but it’s quiet buzz was refreshing. Tokyo never stopped, an always moving machine of people, agendas, and the other commodities of urban living. Oikawa hadn’t felt any semblance of refreshedness in months, when he stopped and everything around him continued. It was his turn to start moving again. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

When Iwaizumi had initially offered for Oikawa to come stay with him and Daichi in Kyonan, his friend’s trepidation to accept was on full display. 

“Look, I just think getting out of Tokyo will help you...ya know!”

Being his childhood best friend, Iwaizumi could feel the scathing scowl Oikawa was fronting through the phone.

“Know _what_ Iwa-chan?”

Treading the line was never much his style, relying often on his blunt demeanor to get his point across, especially and most notably with Oikawa. But even with his calloused tendencies, Iwaizumi knew now more than ever his friend was in need of particularly delicate handling. After a pregnant pause Oikawa sighed into the receiver, but Iwaizumi beat him to respond.

“Just come, take a break from the city for a while. Get away from all the reminders. The wedding is in October anyway, it’ll be a good two months for you to clear your head, try to enjoy yourself.” 

He was begging, a rare trick he brought out when trying to persuade a certain stubborn friend. It was a dirty play, but he knew getting Oikawa out of Tokyo would be good for him. Another elongated pause. Iwaizumi could practically hear his friend’s internal strife as he mulled over the decision in their silence. 

“Tooru-”

“Okay, I’ll come.”

While he didn’t sound horribly enthusiastic, he was nonetheless relieved to have gotten Oikawa on board. Daichi, who had been anxiously listening to the entire conversation, swiftly snatched the phone from his fiance. 

“Amazing, ugh we can’t wait to have you! Hajime already set up the guest house for you, oh and we cannot wait to take you to the beach. You can actually see the stars on the water here at night. I know you always missed that being in Tokyo.”

He smiled, watching his fiance prattle on about this and that to a renounced Oikawa, letting the excitement of his best friend’s arrival laminate his evening. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

January seemed so long ago, yet like it happened all but yesterday. It’s August when Oikawa finds himself on a train headed east from Tokyo, Kyonan a three hour reality ahead of him in the distance. Iwaizumi and Daichi eagerly awaited his arrival. He has no idea what he was looking for.


	2. Enzymes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you had told his younger self that at twenty seven, he’d be sitting with his best friends planning a wedding, let alone own a business and be a hefty contributor to said wedding, well he’d probably still have the same amount of patience for the whole ordeal as he does now, which was minimal at best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update: Made some changes to Chapter 1 if you already read and wanna take a look back, otherwise enjoy!

5:00am shouldn’t be a time anyone enjoys, but Suga always had. There was a stillness to the world that deserved appreciation, a place of solace that was rarely seen, but welcomed those who bore witness to it. While most slept, he listened to the crickets chirp, their song complimented by his march along the sidewalk. It was a sound that echoed across the asphalt, hanging in the morning air like a quiet tune humming low on the radio. 

The commute from his apartment to the shop was short, only ten minutes on days he truly took his time. Suga cherished his mornings, today in particular enjoying the dewy cool air of what would turn out to be a clear summer day, blistering without a cloud in the sky. He was grateful to lavish in the days humble beginnings, before the pavement became a cooktop and he ran his air conditioning bill through the roof. 

Arriving at the storefront, he always made note to ensure his flower beds didn’t fall victim to the neighborhood critters, something Asahi would surely have an epiphany over. From here, Suga set into his routine, one that always set his weekdays on the right track. Locking the front door, he allowed for the warm light of the pastry case to welcome him into the vacancy of the bakery. Meandering his way behind the counter, he found himself in an empty kitchen, his only company a collection of baking sheets and stand mixers. This was the way he liked it most. Mornings in the shop were his, a time to indulge in the tranquility of the craft he loved. Being a small business owner, two hours to himself every work morning felt like a privilege. 

As 7:30am rolled around, Suga was mid crumb frosting a cake when he heard the front door unlock. A scuffle of shoes through the kitchen entrance, and he was greeted by his staff. 

“Good morning Sugawara-san!”

“Yes, morning Suga-san!”

Wiping his hands across his apron, he smiled up from his work, matching the warm greetings of his employees. Being on board for a while now, it took little time for Tadashi and Yachi to settle and get started on the procedural agenda for setting up the store. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Suga waited in his office for his kouhai to finish, mulling over the day's proceedings he’d scribbled down on a sliver of deli paper to review for their morning meeting. A squeak of the hinges on his office door, he found himself presented with his staff ready for him to dole out tasks.

Though having open dialogue about the croissant sale statistics from last Thursday made for truly riveting conversation, he quickly dove into the more important matters they had ahead of them. 

“Today will be a bit busier than a regular Friday. We have four catering orders going out today, one of which I already completed and is all ready to go! The other three can be equally divided between us, though keep in mind I have a cake tasting for Daichi and Iwaizumi’s wedding at 1:00pm. Asashi will also be coming to make sure the flowers and decor match the design for the cake, so please count on me being occupied for at least two hours with that. Though if you need anything, please feel free to spare me from my dear friends droning on about table settings and centerpieces.”

There’s a collective chuckle amongst them, and with that they flurry off to divide and conquer. As he returns to his work station, Suga can't help but feel grateful for his staff allowing him the freedom to do what he loves, without having to meditate and stress too much about production. He gets back to work, thinking in a present of superhero birthday cake orders, and the future of wedding bells. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a little after 2:00pm when Suga still finds himself holed up at a table with his friends, their ample chatter filled with nothing but wedding talk. Between them are a spread of cake samples, scattered between coffee mugs and flower arrangement blueprints that Asahi is fretting, and failing miserably at keeping organized. Daichi has probably now reached the thirty minute mark into his campaign of trying to persuade his fiance into choosing the vanilla with white raspberry cream filling, and Suga thinks he couldn’t possibly drink more coffee to deal with his best friend’s stubbornness. 

“Hajime, I agree the chocolate chiffon is delicious, but it clashes with the rest of the decor.”

“You won’t see the inside of the cake until its cut, I hardly think that’s something to worry about.”

At Iwaizumi’s anecdote, Asahi’s eyes widen, clearly indicating as someone highly involved in their wedding’s aesthetic, it is indeed something to worry about. He goes to interject, Suga trying to stifle a giggle into his coffee mug at the ridiculousness unfolding before him. If you had told his younger self that at twenty seven, he’d be sitting with his best friends planning a wedding, let alone own a business and be a hefty contributor to said wedding, well he’d probably still have the same amount of patience for the whole ordeal as he does now, which was minimal at best, but boosted by his amusement at the squabble his friends were having over fucking cake flavors.

All jokes aside, past the sass and playful impatience, the unrelenting gummy bear side of him couldn’t help but flourish in where life had taken him and his favorite people. They were all accomplished in their own rights, Suga of course having the shop, Asahi owning the flower market, and Daichi becoming a police officer. Also not forgetting Iwaizumi, who took over his family’s flower farm, a notable fragment of the prefecture’s agricultural infrastructure. 

The people he cared for had found success, and now he was watching one of his best friends plan to marry the man he loved. Life went fast like that he supposed. It was times like these Suga found himself dwelling on the prospect of marriage a little too hard, and had to pull himself back from the fantasy of one day getting to do this himself.

_ “Hopefully with less debate,”  _ he’d thought.

Suga mentally checked back in just as the combined efforts of Asahi and Daichi had convinced Iwaizumi to relent to their side, which was really him just tired of getting nagged to death. Honestly, he couldn’t blame the guy. Out of their trio, everyone assumed Suga to be the persuasive one, and not to say he wasn’t, but there was a certain flare of relentlessness that Asahi and Daichi displayed when teamed up, and god help poor Iwaizumi through this process for being their main target. 

“Okay, okay, okay, I get it! The clashing colors, offsetting the theme, I understand we can go with the vanilla raspberry.”

Suga pitted Daichi’s fiance for looking so defeated, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder before jotting down the requested flavor in his catering book. 

“Great, that covers the flavor and filling, what about frosting?”

Merciful as Suga was, the way Iwaizumi’s eyebrows almost shot to his hairline made it very clear the man had enough wedding planning for today. 

“On second thought, maybe we should wrap this up for today? I have a catering order for 3:30pm and need to finish that up. We can coordinate another meeting soon” 

Without protest from Daichi and Asahi, and a grateful look not going unnoticed from Iwaizumi, the group began to clear out for the day. Walking his friends out, Suga felt the hot midday sun shining strongly down on the back of his neck, the heat making him aware of that longer than usual day he’s had thus far. Ushering his friend's goodbye, the prospect of going home to lounge on his couch fueled him with enough energy to finish his duties for the day. 

“Oh Suga wait!”

He’d turned back around at Daichi’s call, aware of the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. A shower, mapo tofu, and his butt firmly snuggled into his sofa crease was practically calling his name. 

“Don’t forget, tonight we’re getting together to welcome Hajime’s best friend coming in from Tokyo. Remember, 8:00pm dude. See ya later!”

Daichi took hold of Hajime’s hand, the two waving back at Suga with grateful smiles as they vanished en route home. Well, he supposes his couch surfing plans are out the window for tonight, 1000% forgetting about the aforementioned plans Daichi kindly reminded him of.

_ “Oh well, you already agreed like a week ago! Can’t flake on your best friend just cause you forgot, asshole.” _

Feeling only a little defeated at his hermit agenda getting upheaved, Suga got right back to work, helping Yachi and Tadashi wrap up for the day. At 5:05pm, he waved goodbye to his staff, locking up shop, and beginning his walk home. The scorching temperature of the sun still reigned down, but weaned off from earlier as it began its descent into the West for the evening. Suga walked with the exhaust of a productive day, reaching his apartment door and wanting nothing more than to veg out and binge watch his K-dramas. Alas, he had places to be, and promptly began his journey for a well deserved shower. His social battery particularly low, he allowed himself the bail after a respectful two hour appearance. Besides, he was merely going to show face, ya know like a good adult. Being this tired, he could hardly think of anything that would keep him there longer than you could muster, and could hardly wait to be back home later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, really pandering there with the not so subtle allusion to Oikawa and Suga meeting in the next chapter. Anywho, I hope ya’ll enjoyed this chapter! I rewrote it like five times trying to figure out how I wanted to move forward, and I’m content with how it shaped out. Also sorry for the little bit of wait for an update, I’m almost done wrapping up my semester and unfortunately college writing comes before pleasure writing. Still haven’t figured out a specific update scheduled, but my semester ends on Wednesday so I’ll have one fleshed out with the next chapter. See ya soon!


	3. Roots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God, people in Kyonan really lacked a way of making their presence known. That, or Oikawa was just entirely on edge.

The cab pulled up to the house, and Oikawa felt his stomach become one magnificent knot. His fingers fidgeted over the door handle, the prospect of exiting the car setting his nerves alive under his skin. He almost wanted to tell the driver to take him back to the train station. Take him back to Tokyo, back to his apartment, where the curtains were drawn shut, the only light a static lumination from the TV replaying old matches. The desire to flee made him feel like a coward, which made him think of Iwaizumi, who by no means would approve of this internal pity party meltdown he was having in the backseat of this cab. 

He allowed himself a deep breath before exiting the car, his stubbornness propelling him forward to the front porch . The porch of his best friend and his fiance’s home, a testament to the life they’d built together thus far. It made Oikawa horribly conscious of what his own life lacked, what was missing between all the broken pieces.

He’d found the courage to knock, his other hand tautly gripping the handle of his suitcase for whatever feeble support it provided. His heart jumped at the shuffling of feet coming to answer, adamantly trying to squash down the feeling of choking trying to crawl its way down his tongue. 

The moment that door opened, Oikawa couldn’t fathom a time in his life where he’d felt more vulnerable. Iwaizumi took one look at him, and Oikawa crumpled under his gaze. 

“Hey Iwa-chan.”

His words came out strained, tense from tears he hadn't realized he was fighting back. 

“Come here you idiot.”

His total time in Kyonan had been approximately thirty three minutes, and Oikawa was already sobbing in his best friend’s arms. He felt a little pathetic about it, but decided his ego could take the loss. He’d missed Hajime, and from the dampness on his shoulder he could tell the feeling was mutual. 

“Jeez, you two get together for five whole seconds and you’re already crying. At least come inside so the neighbors don’t wonder why two grown men are holding each other wailing on my porch!”

It was the first time in a long time, but Oikawa laughed, deep from the chest and bubbling from his lips. It made him feel light, and he pulled apart from Iwaizumi with a smile pulling at his cheeks, looking to Daichi over his shoulder with a sniffle. 

“Nice to see you too Sawamura-kun.”

Iwaizumi chuckled, patting Oikawa’s shoulder before reaching for his luggage. 

“Soon to be Iwaizumi-kun actually, so you better start sorting out new nicknames dipshit. Now come on, let’s get you settled in.” 

\-----------------------------------------------------------

Oikawa wasn’t sure if he was still riding the high from when he arrived earlier, or if it was the sake catching up to him, but through his tipsy stupor it came to his attention he’d have to meet Iwaizumi and Daichi’s guests in less than twenty minutes. 

“Knock back too many?”

Daichi always had a way of sneaking up on people that drove Oikawa crazy, and he practically jumped out of his skin at his sudden appearance beside him. This made the other man laugh, heartily from his stomach with that broad toothy smile Oikawa knew was Iwaizumi’s favorite.

“Easy there Kindergarten Cop, you almost gave me a fucking heart attack.” 

This made Daichi laugh more, this time a low chuckle accompanied by him taking a seat. They were on the back porch, Iwaizumi in the kitchen finishing up meal prep for their company. Through the kitchen window, Oikawa could see him fussing with the onigiri, and he hadn't realized he was smiling till Daichi spoke again. 

“Ya know, he’s really happy you decided to come stay with us.”

This made Oikawa grimace, just the slightest twinge that could be played off. He was happy he decided to come as well, but the guilt of feeling like an emotional burden rattled at his insecurities. Part of him was excited to spend time with his closest friend, be a proper best man before Iwaizumi went off and got married in October. Then there was the other side, the one that waded in his failures. He almost felt like a stranger, like he’d become a bystander in the lives of people that were leaving him behind. 

When Daichi nudged him out of his thoughts, he supposed that grimace probably wasn’t as disguised as he would have liked it to be, that interrogative police officer look Daichi was so good at chidding him for what he knew he was thinking. 

“Oikawa-”

The ring of his cell phone cut Daichi off, and Oikawa was for once grateful for his PR manager’s insistent calls. He excused himself, with a look from Daichi that this conversation was not over, but he could at least avoid it for now. 

Walking off into the backyard, Oikawa braced himself for whatever he was frantically about to be berated with, accepting the call and immediately pulling the receiver away from his ear at the exuberant shouting coming from the other end. 

“OIKAWA-SAN I HAVE AMAZING NEWS FOR YOU!”

“Yahaba please you’re gonna make me deaf before you can even tell me!”

His manager only slightly brought down his tone, and Oikawa was genuinely curious as to what had him so absolutely elated.

“I just got off a call with ESPN Japan, and they want YOU as a commentator for the Japanese Volleyball Association! I could hardly believe it when they offered, I told them I would talk to you straight away for confirmation but that you would absolutely-”

“Yahaba please chill!”

He needed two seconds, two seconds to grapple with his thoughts, shove them far down deep into the crevices of his mind where they couldn’t hurt him, and he could say something to his public representative better than word vomit or fuck ten times in a row. No breakdowns, just functional, rational human speech. The indigent huff on the other line made Oikawa sigh in response.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to yell at you, I just...thats crazy! You’re not fucking with me right?”

“Fucking with you? Of course not this is big shit! Gosh this is perfect, it’s like you’re getting a redemption arc or some cheesy shit like that, I’ll call them back and tell them you accept right away!”

“Wait woah, accept?”

Overwhelmed was an understatement, and Oikawa had just barely caught up processing. 

“Yes, accept! Oikawa-san, this is such a substantial opportunity, you would be out of your fucking mind if you didn’t take it.”

He held back a scoff, cause clearly Yahaba wasn’t tunned into Oikawa’s current state of internal affairs, but he couldn’t blame the other for his fervor; he was right, this wasn’t an opportunity you just pushed away. Even so, all this information mingling with the alcohol was making his head swim, and wished he’d just had that heart to heart bullshit with Daichi instead. Speaking of, he could hear the addition of new voices carrying from the kitchen window, and remembered there were guests to greet. 

“I know, I know. Look, don’t give them the okay yet alright? Just umm…fuck! My friends are expecting me, and I just would like to think about it with a clearer mind is all.”

He could practically feel Yahaba itching with a counter point at the ready, but the other gave a relinquished sigh before relenting and promising to call back in a couple days, much to Oikawa’s chagrin. He deposited his phone in his back pocket, hands fidgeting as they wiped sweat onto his joggers. Hearing the warm laughter echo from inside calmed him though, and he made his way back, encouraging himself to not be a skittish mess. 

He came in through the back door, greeted by the hum of joyful noise and equally elated company. There were a lot more people than the “couple of friends” Iwaizumi mentioned joining them, but he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been to a proper gathering, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little excited. 

Daichi spotted him in the doorway, and Oikawa made his way over to where he and Iwaizumi were talking with a few others. Iwaizumi was grinning ear to ear, arm draped affectionately across Daichi’s shoulders. They’d been together seven years, but Oikawa could still hardly believe how much this man made his best friend come out of his shell. 

He was immediately swept in by Iwaizumi, letting go of Daichi to practically throw Oikawa into a playful chokehold. He squeezed him a little bit harder than normal, and Oikawa could tell he had a couple more drinks in him from when he’d last seen him. That was trouble, cause drunk Iwaizumi was a menace with an agenda for embarrassment. 

“Oh you have great timing Shittykawa! Asahi this is my best man Oikawa!”

Trying not to be horrified by the drunk introduction, Oikawa faced the man in question, a dude too tall and seemingly intimidating to have as kind of a face as he did. He smiled meekly, holding his hand out. 

“Ahh it’s a pleasure to finally meet you Oikawa-san. I’ve heard many lovely things about you.”

Daichi, the saint he was, loosened his fiance’s borderline death grip so Oikawa could properly shake Asahi’s hand. He gently reigned him in with a hand on the small of his back, leading the conversation away from whatever havoc drunk Iwaizumi was planning. 

“Asahi is one of my groomsmen! He’s also a florist so he’s being the best ever and designing all our flower arrangements as well.”

“Wow, you’re contributing a bunch huh? Makes me kinda feel like I’m lacking with my best man duties, right Iwa-chan?”

“Oh don’t worry, did you forget you’re helping me out in the fields first thing Monday morning dude? That’s plenty of contribution if you ask me. I know it’s a step down from professional sports, but it’ll be humbling for you.”

Everyone got a good laugh out of that, and Oikawa tried to hide his frown behind a chuckle. He could be the butt of the joke, that was fine. Iwaizumi was drunk, that was also fine. But the collapse of his career was still a sensitive topic. He found out first hand how fast things could be taken away from you, and going from an Olympic prospect, to working in a flower field was demeaning enough without your drunk best friend shoving it back in your face. He felt an uneasiness pool in his stomach. The need to flee when he just began to socialize was staggering, but he simply needed a moment to collect himself. Patting Iwaizumi on the shoulder he excused himself to the restroom, instead making a beeline for the door. 

The front porch was the only area of the house not teeming with party guests, and Oikawa was grateful for a minute of tranquility. He’d made a seat out of the top step, letting his hands rest against the damp wood. For eight months, routine had become doctors appointments, physical therapy, and then back to his apartment. So much time in solitude had really done a number on his disquiet, but the chirp of the cicadas was helping him linger away from all his ugly thoughts. 

“Getting some air?”

Oikawa nearly shrieked, a similar response to when Daichi had scared him earlier. God, people in Kyonan really lacked a way of making their presence known. That, or he was just entirely on edge. He was a little irritated at his alone time being interrupted, but any form of annoyance he harbored dissipated quickly when he met who had spoken to him. 

It was a hot button debate with his old teammates, whether a man could be described as beautiful. Oikawa had always been for it, always teased for being a pretty boy himself, but the guy standing in front of him was just stunning. He gave an shy smile, even having the audacity to fucking blush, and it made Oikawa’s head swirl.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”

The guy sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and extended a hand, and Oikawa was genuinely offended by how ridiculously cute this stranger was being. 

“Um I’m Sugawara Koushi, but Suga is fine. I’m afraid I can’t say I’ve ever seen you around before. I’m assuming you’re a friend of Iwaizumi then?” 

All the earlier pep talk shit about how to be a functional human being almost chucked itself out the window, and Oikawa had to swallow down the stammer he almost choked out. He’d almost forgotten to accept the offered hand, shaking it quickly before retracting his nervous palms back to the porch stairs. 

“Oikawa Tooru..I’m actually Iwa-chan’s friend from Tokyo, kinda like the whole reason they’re throwing this party…”

Lord, he didn’t think it was possible for him to be more awkward, but Suga not entirely having his cool made him less mortified at how lame he was being. A silver eyebrow rose at his response, a curiosity likened to Diachi’s own glimmered behind his honey brown eyes. Clearly the two were friends, which felt almost dangerous, Daichi could be quite the prodder. 

“Mind if I sit?” 

Suga had looked hesitant to ask, but fuck Oikawa if he was gonna complain about a gorgeous man asking to keep him company. He shuffled over quickly, making room for the other to sit on the porch stairs. 

“Tell me Oikawa-san-”

“Oh ugh just Oikawa is fine.”

He gave Suga a modest smile, two which he received a wide grin in return, and Jesus he’d known this guy for like five minutes whole minutes and he was already  _ killing  _ him. 

“Alright  _ just _ Oikawa, tell me then. Why are you outside when you have a whole party basically being thrown for your arrival going on, well, not out here?” 

Yep, definitely a friend of Daichi’s. Any semblance of alcohol left in his system had evaporated at this point. Suga’s appearance made him stone cold sober. 

“Well, would anxiety be a sufficient answer, Suga-chan?” 

He had no idea why he was being so candid with a dude he’d barely just met, but the giggle that floated off Suga’s lips made him dismiss whatever doubts he had. 

“I think that’s more than a sufficient answer. So Daichi told me you’re from Tokyo?” 

Before Oikawa could respond, the front door opened, illuminating the two from their seat on the stairs. The little world they’d created in the quiet neighborhood air had been interrupted, and Daichi stood surprised in the doorway. 

“Oh, Oikawa! Iwaizumi was wondering where you went, but he’s drunk as shit so I said I’d look for you...um Suga, when did you get here?” 

The bashful dusting across Suga’s cheeks reappeared, and Oikawa took the smirk on Daichi’s face as a cue to stand up, almost feeling exposed. He could tell Daichi had a couple drinks himself, but you’d be a fool to think Daichi ever faltered out of cop mode, and god was he a merciless tease. Him and Iwaizumi were perfect for each other. 

“Well I’ll just go let Iwa-chan know I’m alive then!”

Daichi eyed him punitively, but he ignored him to turn back to Suga. 

“It was nice to meet you Suga-chan, maybe I’ll see you around?”

His tone left an air of uncertainty between them, posing the question almost like a challenge, but welcoming enough in hopes that he’d get to see Suga again. 

“Likewise  _ just _ Oikawa, see you around.” 

Oikawa turned on his heel, beaming from ear to ear and ignoring Daichi’s eyes burning into the back of his skull. God, he’s happy he got out of that cab. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet baby Jesus guys! My semester ended last Friday, and I think my brain legit shut off until yesterday. I think it was coping with the amount of work I got thoroughly screwed with this semester, so I just had to blip off the writing radar for a couple of days. The 4.0 GPA totally makes it worth it though! Regardless apologies, but hey this chapter was extra long! Also, wooooo these two doofs finally met! I just love the idea of Oikawa being real smitten when he first meets Suga, cause whoever thinks Oikawa is anything but a flustered dork is sorely mistaken. And can we please give a big shoutout to drunk Iwaizumi, and good ole Daichi trying keep him from choking out his best friend. Ahhh that brings me so much joy. Anywho, I think I've gained enough of my energy back to upload every Friday. See ya'll for the next chapter!


	4. Shoots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet here he was, heart beating fast because of this dorky, beautiful man, excited about giving him milk bread, and he could hardly think of anything else he’d rather want to do than getting to know Sugawara Koushi.

By the end of his first day on the farm, Oikawa couldn’t tell you if there was a part of him that  _ hadn’t _ sweat. He was sitting in Iwaizumi’s work truck, the two headed home after a long day, the air conditioner cranked high. It made Oikawa shiver when it reached the dampness of his shirt, the veil of dirt and pollen that had gathered a measly layer against the cold. It was one of his National Team shirts, one of many in his wardrobe, but nonetheless still cherished. He tried to brush off what he could to no avail. It was almost like the sweat cemented everything to the fabric, and he wasn’t too hopeful about what the washing machine could do later. Oikawa looked a mess, all disheveled hair and sunburnt forearms, and he figured that’s probably why Iwaizumi is miserably failing at giggling under his breath next to him. 

“Iwa-chan spare me, we can’t all rock a farmer’s tan you know!”

This only elicits more laughter, a begrudging realization Oikawa has known all their lives; their dynamic hasn’t changed since they were young. 

“Honestly, you look one boiling pot of water away from turning into a lobster. More sunscreen for you tomorrow Shittykawa.”

He turns the air conditioner up two more notches, and Oikawa is eternally grateful for Iwaizumi’s dotting mercy. Oikawa brings the sun visor down, noting in the mirror how beat he looks, tired eyes accented by puffy, red cheeks. Aside from mandated rehab and physical therapy appointments, this had been the first time in months Oikawa had done anything close to a full workout, and the longing to go back and give everything he physically had to volleyball ached dully in his chest. Being in the fields today almost hadn’t felt real. His knee hadn’t given him much trouble, just a bit of stiffness when bending, and it took every bit of him to relinquish the flicker of hope it gave him. He took that flicker, squashed it in a box deep deep down under ten feet of reality, and accepted what was. The fact he could walk was a blessing, let alone play farmhand. His circumstances were clear, and he could miss volleyball all he wanted, but he would diminish the prospect of what could have been. Oikawa sighs, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to get the wet fringe off of his face. 

“That’s fine, I’ll take that over your crispy fried chicken arms, like jeez Iwa-chan, you know the sun accelerates the aging process?! Daichi didn’t sign up to marry Craig Mammalton.”

This gets a good laugh out of Iwaizumi, the kind where it's more wheezing than anything else, and that alone gets Oikawa doubling over as well. He feels delirious, sharing fatigued laughter with hardly any context between him and his best friend in this dusty old pickup truck, and he sets aside whatever melancholy thoughts were trying to plague him beforehand. 

When Iwaizumi stops the truck, they’re parked along the sidewalk in town. Kids ride their bikes, hundred yen popsicles clenched tightly against their handlebars. Women walk around in their linen dresses. There are water bowls for dogs outside shops, and the aroma of a taiyaki chart wafts in through the windows. Stepping out of the truck, Oikawa is struck by summer, its full embrace gently cradling the streets of Kyonan as the sun beams down from the cloudless sky. It makes him realize how much he was missing out on being holed up in his apartment. 

“Alright, I gotta drop these flower orders off to Asahi across the street. Daichi asked me to pick up bread on the way home, would you mind going to the bakery a block down and getting some while I do this?” 

Oikawa easily obliges, shooing Iwaizumi off with buckets full of fresh picked flowers, and begins his walk down the street. He rounds the corner to what he supposes is his destination, a cute little shop adorned with a wooden carved sign that reads _ Refreshing Bakes _ . Entering the shop, a bell above the doorway chimes, and he is welcomed by the sweet smell of confections pulling him towards the counter. He notes there is no one actually present at the cash register, but hear’s a quick “Be right with you!” from the back, and takes to hungrily admiring the pastry case as he waits. He’s mid admiration of the fruit tarts when a swoosh of silver comes out from the kitchen, and Oikawa is mortified to realize who that head of hair belongs to. 

“Thank you for your patience, had to finish up a batch of cupcakes. How may I help-oh! Oikawa!”

Suga is just as Oikawa remembers from meeting him a couple nights ago. Only this time he adorns an apron, covered in everything from flour to what Oikawa can only deduce to being dried egg yolks. He has a bit of frosting on his cheek, just above the beauty mark Oikawa is now realizing he has, and he thinks its a bit unfair how effortlessly beautiful this man is even in a less unkempt state. It makes Oikawa horrifically conscious of his own state of dress, and he tries not to dwell on the fact he looks like he just got tossed off the back of a tractor while Suga is standing there giving him that lovely smile of his. After his initial response, Oikawa is shocked at how pleasantly surprised Suga seems to see him, and he tries to dutifully ignore how hot the tips of his ears feel at that moment. 

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon, though I’m certainly not complaining!”

The way he says it is nothing but well intended and innocent, yet the underlying implication of Suga’s words has Oikawa’s brain doing the dumb things he thought were just a byproduct of him drinking too much sake the other night. Oikawa tries to think of a response, but fails at providing himself any material that wouldn’t be totally lame. Thankfully, Suga continues the conversation, and Oikawa can take a second to get a hold of himself. 

“So what brings you into my shop?”

His shop? It was already a crime for Suga to be as attractive as he was, but adding baker and established business owner to the list almost seemed unfair. 

Back when he was on the National Team, Oikawa had gained quite the following for not only his prowess, but his looks. He was practically marketed as an athletic sex symbol, the fan girls of Japan swooning over the charming setter with not only talent, but dashing looks to boot. If only they’d all known how romantically challenged he actually was, that surely would have killed the fantasy of it all.

If there’s anything Oikawa had learned in the past several months, it was that the world had a way of humbling you, swiftly and unmercifully. He kept this in mind as he pathetically remembered how to speak. 

“Um Iwa-chan actually sent me to pick up some bread for Daichi, you wouldn’t happen to know what he likes, would you?” 

Suga chuckles, a beautiful melody that pleases Oikawa’s ears, and it frightens him how much he wants to keep being the person to make this man laugh like that. He admonishes himself quickly for even allowing himself to think that, getting wrapped up in the reverie that’s divulged itself at the hands of his acquaintance. 

“Well I wouldn’t be Daichi’s best friend if I didn’t know what he liked would I?” 

At this exclamation, Suga makes quick work of wrapping up a loaf from the shelf behind him. He also readies a pastry box, artfully lying wax paper along the bottom before staring at Oikawa inquisitively. He rests forward on the counter, leaning closer towards Oikawa on his elbows, and if that wasn’t endearing enough, the complimentary playful gleam in Suga’s eyes makes Oikawa’s fingers twitch against his sides. 

“Say Oikawa, what would you pick between a cream puff or an eclair? Don’t worry, this is totally not a deal breaker moving forward or anything.” 

Oikawa laughs, the worry that had been swelling his lungs relieving itself through the bright noise. Suga was attractive indeed, but Oikawa found it almost silly to be so flustered around someone who made himself so warm and inviting. He quickly found new comfortable footing, meeting Suga’s gesture and leaning against the opposite side of the counter to properly face him. 

“Well in honesty Suga-chan, I can say my answer is neither.”

This earns Oikawa an eyebrow quirk, clearly not the answer Suga had been expecting, but their little game continues, with Suga notably inching just the  _ slightest  _ bit closer across the counter. 

“Well then do tell what your preference is.”

There’s an innuendo that Oikawa almost hollers at etched in there, but before he can respond, the chime of the shop bell rings, and both men turn to find an Iwaizumi standing there, unknowingly walking into what to anyone else would look like shameless flirting. He is none the wiser to how both Oikawa and Suga straighten up quickly, feeling caught like they had with Daichi on the porch stairs when they’d first met; thankfully Iwa-chan is a lot less privy to suspicion than his fiance. Oikawa makes a side note to himself that it would be especially lovely that next time he spoke to Suga, it would hopefully be an uninterrupted endeavor. 

“Hajime! How are you today?” 

Iwaizumi joins them, greeting Suga with a half hug across the threshold of the counter. He slides the bread in waiting hands, like its routine for them, It probably is, and it makes Oikawa realize how much he’s missed his best friend, how many of the small, seemingly insignificant details of Iwaizumi’s life he hasn’t been around to learn. 

Being a professional athlete is great and all, until you have to devote almost every fragment of your being to your sport. It was something Oikawa loved about volleyball, being absolutely ingrained in every fiber of its existence. Immersion led to greatness, but Oikawa was aware that big aspirations also came with sacrifice, and he could say one of the positives to come out of his injury was the chance to finally spend time with Hajime again, get the chance to actually have relationships with people other than his teammates, maybe find something more...

“Koushi, you should know that answer by now knowing who my fiance is.” 

_ Koushi _ . Oikawa thought it suited him, everything seemed to suit Suga. He chided Iwaizumi in good spirit for “speaking ill” of his dear Daichi, taking a moment to wrap up an almond croissant and raspberry scone in the pastry box from before. He refocuses his gaze onto Oikawa, and the really selfish part of him wishes Iwaizumi would just fuck off somewhere where Suga wasn’t biting the inside of his cheek, and that alone wasn’t absolutely driving Oikawa up a wall. 

“Oikawa you never told me what you like before?”

_ You \ _

He answers steadily, aware of Iwaizumi’s presence by his side, and pretends he doesn’t feel like a crush stricken middle schooler. 

“Milk bread.”

This apparently was the right response, Suga practically jumping up with delight, quickly scurrying off to the back. The action makes Iwaizumi chuckle, clearly used to Suga’s antics. Oikawa offhandedly thinks he should have come to Kyonan  _ months  _ ago. Suga returns with an entire loaf of milk bread, almost shoving the entire thing into Oikawa’s face to show him.

“Look! Just finished on the cooling rack from earlier. Wow, I love to make this stuff, but hardly anyone ever freaking buys it. My gift to you for having taste off the beaten path, my official welcome to you staying in Kyonan.”

He hands the loaf to Oikawa, who thinks a year ago he would have had to refuse such a kind gesture because of his previously strict diet regime. Their hands brush, and Oikawa is suddenly entirely too overwhelmed. He can’t remember the last time he’d found someone even remotely attractive, too focused on his career to even give his admirer’s the time of day. Yet here he was, heart beating fast because of this dorky, beautiful man, excited about giving him milk bread, and he could hardly think of anything else he’d rather want to do than getting to know Sugawara Koushi. 

“Yes Dai we got the bread, we’ll be home soon...bye, love you too.”

Oikawa hadn’t even realized Iwaizumi had been on the phone, too fixated on a certain baker to notice. He slides Suga a few bills across the counter, easily scooping the pastry box and bread under his arm. 

“Daichi’s almost done with dinner so we should get going. Suga thank you as always, see you soon.” 

He nudges Oikawa to leave, and Oikawa masks his disappointment in a small smile as he follows behind Iwaizumi.

“Thank you again Suga-chan, goodbye.”

He keeps it simple, only able to communicate so much when he feels like he’s on the verge of short circuiting.

“Bye bye Oikawa, see you soon!”

It’s not a question this time, not like when they’d first met, and Oikawa can’t wait for whenever soon will be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm a day late, I worked all week and suddenly it was Friday and I was like WOAH I HAVE LIKE HALF A CHAPTER DONE, I GOTTA POST TODAY! I'm just happy its finally here for ya'll to enjoy. Let us all take a moment to appreciate and have mercy for Oikawa, because again, if anyone thinks he is anything but a blubbering, flustered train wreck, we need to have some words. Let 's just say, he is definitely not one sided in his feelings if you know what I mean? More on that in the next chapter though! Also, if anybody gets that Spongebob reference Oikawa blurts out we need to be friends, periodt.


	5. Sprout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Suga wanted to be disgusted with how cared about he was by his friends.

Suga idly tapped his spoon against his coffee cup, trying to seem present in a conversation he was very tired of having. Today had been particularly hectic, Tadashi home with a stomach bug since Wednesday. That had left him and Hitoka scrambling about all day, finishing up six whole catering orders, a challenge already daunting with three pairs of hands, nevermind two. Hitoka looked ready to combust midway through it all, and Suga sent the poor girl home with a massive armful of bread as a thank you, and a promise to hire more help around the store soon. 

Considering how drained he was, it was definitely time, they needed it. The business the shop was receiving was beginning to outgrow its staff, and this left Suga both equally elated and stressed. The bakery was his pride and joy, his greatest accomplishment in life thus far. To be as successful as he is now is something he takes immense gratitude and joy in. There is not a day he takes it for granted, no matter how gross merguine feels when it dries in your hair, or how tired his hands are after kneading and scoring bread all day. 

Still, there is an undertone of alarm, that it can all be taken from him, swiftly without warning or regard. He tried to corral those ugly thoughts, not let them spiral out of control too often. It was taking some time, but most days it was easier for Suga to affirm that not everything great in your life just gets up and walks away one day, leaving you hapless, alone. Today was unfortunately not one of those days. 

“Suga what do you think about the flowers? They’ll be garnish on the cake as well, so I do appreciate the input.” 

Asahi is expectantly holding a bundle of flowers in each hand, and Suga realizes how checked out he’d been for the last several minutes. He tries not to look too blatantly ashamed, not wanting to give himself away to Asahi who probably hadn’t noticed him being a total space case, but he can feel Daichi’s suspect look in his periphirals, and knows he hasn’t entirely evaded being caught. He gives both options a quick once over, and gingerly taps Ashai’s left hand, not wanting to ruin the samples. 

“I like the purple alstroemeria.”

Asahi nods appreciatively at his opinion, and both cast a look to Daichi, whose nose is scrunched up just slightly in that way it gets when he’s being particularly stubborn about something; Suga and Iwaizumi came to a formal agreement years ago it was their least favorite Daichi quirk. 

“Really? You guys don’t like the orange dahlias?” 

It was easy for Daichi to get hung up on something he liked, and even easier for him to persuade everyone around him to also go along with his preferences, but Suga and Asahi had become proficient over the years at collaboratively dismantling their hard headed friend. Suga was also losing patience by the second, and desperately ached to go home to his favorite sofa crease and bottle of pinot grigio. He huffed, but Asahi thankfully spoke before he could say something a bit more angrily than he intended. 

“I think they’re beautiful, but everyone does orange for autumn weddings. Plus, the purple Peruvian lilies are especially lovely in the Fall, and I think they’ll compliment the cake nicely!”

All with a smile, Asahi basically makes convincing Daichi a done deal, and several minutes later Suga is relieved to be closing his catering book. He notes how frayed the exposed edges of the pages are getting, all folded creases and coffee stains from way back in culinary school. He realizes letting things go was never a proclivity of his. 

His attention is brought to Asahi departing to meet Noya for dinner, leaving Daichi, himself, and the elephant that decided to jaunt its way into the room, alone in the shop. Having Daichi as a best friend was a joy he never took for granted, but it also came with the consequence of never being able to hide his feelings, literally ever. Sometimes Suga wanted to be disgusted with how cared about he was by his friends. 

He rose from his seat, scooping up their long abandoned, cold coffee mugs and made his way into the kitchen. Daichi quickly scurried behind to catch up, making Suga chuckle as he dropped their mugs in the sink basin. 

“Suga-”

“What Dai? I’m not running away, I just assumed that I could at least make this interrogation productive by getting the dishes cleaned.” 

It was Daichi’s turn to huff, but Suga was way too pleased with himself to feel bad for his friend’s exasperation. Though, seeing Daichi’s earnest expression did surmise a bubble of guilt in his stomach, and he prepared himself for what he knew his friend was about to say.

“Suga, I know we’ve already beat this topic like a dead horse-”

He snorted, high in the nose, and already over where this conversation was headed. 

“Jeez, at least you’re aware.”

This earns him an awful scowl, and Suga suddenly becomes very interested in the hairline crack beginning to form at the base of one of the mug handles. He can feel Daichi gearing up the patience Suga has utterly lost at this point; they’d always complimented each other well like that. 

“Like I was saying, I know you’ve already insisted, but if being so involved with the wedding brings up bad memories, you can take a step back. You know I won’t be upset if you don’t make our cake, you’re still one of my groomsmen! I just don’t want you to suffer for my benefit.”

Daichi’s words are so much kinder than he deserved for how much of a brat he was being, and it helps Suga’s response come out a bit less scathing. 

“Daichi, today was just a very long day. Fuck, its been a long week. I got my ass handed to me with all these orders, and I’m honestly just tired!”

He shuts the faucet off, reaching for a rag to dry his hands, but he can still feel Daichi’s eyes casting worry over his way. Suga clenches the towel, and braces himself for his next words. He forces them off his tongue, a clumsy dance coated in the heartache that was an accessory to speaking the name that will haunt him for a lifetime. 

“This has nothing to do with Eita, I know that’s what you’re getting at here.” 

Daichi leaned against the kitchen island, heaving a big sigh he must have been holding since Asahi had left. When their eyes meet Suga challenges him with a dangerous gleam, daring him to say one more word on the matter, and Daichi wisely continues not to press any further. Suga didn’t enjoy acting this way, all petulant and defensive. His friend ever only meant well, but he was in no mood to explore his past romantic failures at the moment. 

“Sorry...like I said I’m just exhausted...really Dai, I’m okay. Thank you for being worried.”

Daichi fully surrenders, a bit of sympathy gifted in a small smile, and Suga is entirely too grateful for it. With Daichi’s help, the two make quick work of closing up shop, and Suga takes the offered ride home in Daichi’s police cruiser without much protest. The heat had been gruelling today, and he takes the cool air from the AC vents in greedily; it's sadly the first time he’s relaxed all week. They ride down the main strip of town, watching kids play ken-ken-pa and draw with chalk on the sidewalks, and he leans further back into the passenger seat as the other storefront wiz by.

“Say Dai, how is Oikawa-san enjoying Kyonan?”

Daichi, who had been humming along to some American artist on the radio, gives Suga a questioning look at the sudden mention of his fiance’s friend, but thankfully doesn’t pay it much mind. 

“I’d say he’d be enjoying it more if Hajime wasn’t working him to death on the farm, but he seems a lot happier than when he first arrived. Spending time together has been really good for both of them, even if Hajime doesn’t like to admit it.” 

“Well that’s why you love him, he’s a softy under all that bicep. You also love that you have him totally wrapped around your finger, but I digress!” 

Daichi reaches over to give Suga a playful smack on the arm, the other snickering as he retaliates with no real malice. If Asahi had been here, he probably would’ve panicked and thought they were actually fighting. Daichi ends up victorious with a hearty thwap to Suga’s shoulder, Suga childishly sticking his tongue out in defeat. He feels breathless as they pull up to the apartment, all giddy with the nostalgic excitement of messing around with a friend. Daichi is smiling as well, the fine pleats of his uniform wrinkled from their slap fight. Even as grown adults, they’ll never not resort to acting like teenage boys around each other. Suga unbuckles his seatbelt, grabbing his bag on the way out of the cruiser. 

“Thanks for the ride officer Sawamura, now if you’ll excuse me I got a date with my couch and a bottle of wine!” 

He gives Daichi a wink, obnoxious like the one’s all the neighborhood mom’s give him when he patrols the park weekday afternoons, making the other roll his eyes.

“No problem idiot. Oh before you go, we’re having Asahi and Noya over for dinner tomorrow night, nothing crazy just close friends. Come so you can ask Oikawa himself about how he’s enjoying his stay.” 

Daichi’s remark completely catches Suga off guard, and he practically launches himself into the street with how hard he unconsciously began to press on the handle of the car door. The smirk Daichi gives him is oozing with satisfaction, and the urge to slap it off his face for real this time around is pertinent. Suga is still dumbfounded on what to say, getting caught red handed never amounted to him having a productive comeback. He’s still clutching the door handle like a lifeline, praying Daichi doesn’t comment on how warm his cheeks must look. 

“Don’t be so silly  _ detective _ Daichi-”

“Hajime told me you gave Oikawa a whole loaf of milk bread last week.”

“Oh, what? Am I not allowed to be nice now!”

Daichi only gives him another smug look in response, and Suga decides he has had enough of being called out on his bullshit for one day. He tries his darndest not the slam the cruiser door too hard, stalking off to the entrance of his building. He hears Daichi roll down the car window, calling after him with condescension still dripping from his tone. 

“So is that a yes to dinner tomorrow?”

“Fuck you!” 

In their friendship, that happens to mean yes. And Suga trudges up to his apartment with the ring of Daichi’s jeering pestering him the whole way to his front door. He makes it inside, making quick work of depositing his bag and keys and heading straight for his wine wrack. 

“Fucking stupid Daichi thinking he’s onto something, can’t ever mind his own fucking business.” 

He pops the cork out of the bottle, filling himself a generous glass before dumping himself on the sofa. If he could go one day without a friend trying to meddle in his life, Suga swears he would sleep better at night. Shit, maybe even his blood pressure would go down. He grunts into his wine glass, the vibrations off the rim tingling his lips as he takes a sip. If only he’d be so lucky. If good fortune had ever been on his side, it never would’ve sullied his love life in the first place. He picks up the remote, landing on the familiarity of the cooking channel to start his evening. He wonders what’ll make a quick, easy dinner, trying not to dwell on the idea of getting to see Oikawa tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, posting before Friday? Who am I? I hope you guys liked this chapter! The support, even if its small, I've been receiving makes my heart soar, and I'm so happy you guys are enjoying this journey of watching these two idiots try to navigate themselves through life. All the positive feedback just got me so excited, so I'll be double posting this week, now and Friday as well! Thank you again!


	6. Seedling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dai-chan, is there ever a day where you mind your own business?”

_“Hi I’m Kaori Suzumeda, reporting here live from Tokyo Metropolitan Stadium with the International Sports Network! Currently I’m sitting down with Coach Yuichi Nakagaichi of the Japanese Men’s National Volleyball team, briefing in before their season kickoff match against the Italian National Team. Now, word on the street has it you guys have some promising prospects debuting this year?”_

_“Promising is modest of you, Suzumeda-san. Last year we recruited Kuroo Tetsuro from Suntory Sunbirds, Bokuto Koutarou from MSBY Black Jackals, Ushijima Wakatoshi from Schweiden Adlers, and Oikawa Tooru from Club Atheltico San Juan, all to our development team. They’ll all be premiering first string today.”_

_“Very exciting to hear! I know you have important matters to attend to, so to wrap things up, how do you feel with all these fresh new faces going into an Olympic year? Are you worried about their lack of experience on such a large scale stage?”_

_“Worried? Of course not, those boys are a powerhouse together. They’re going to carry us to the Olympic podium. I will say it now, and I will not regret it.”_

_“That’s quite the statement to make Nakagaichi-san, the Japanese haven’t been on the podium since 1972 in Munich.”_

_“I know, but they’re ready. You’ll have no doubts after today, trust me.”_

  
  


\----------------------------

September brings a grace to Kyonan Oikawa wished the rest of summer did, warm gentle breezes cascading from sunny skies. He’s grateful for it, sitting in one of Daichi’s big Adirondack chairs out in the backyard as he nurses his coffee. He’s grateful for it, for the semblance of calm it is bringing him while he glares down the unanswered emails in his inbox, all from Yahaba. Not grateful for the dread that thinking about them all week has brought him. He figures though if he didn’t answer soon, Yahaba was more likely to get on a train from Tokyo to beat Oikawa up rather than quit his job as his PR manager, so there wasn’t much to be lost besides his pride, and quite frankly he’d lost that a while ago. 

And that’s where Iwaizumi finds Oikawa, knees pressed under his chin, coffee mug left in the grass to be commandeered by some of the braver insects, and laptop staring him down from the patio table. He walks over and takes a seat in an adjacent chair, Oikawa not even sparing a glance to his new company. 

“Jeez Shittykawa, you look two seconds away from chewing all your fingernails off.” 

This elicits a reaction, Oikawa sighing as he relents to Iwaizumi’s prodding words. He was always subtle like that, not like Daichi who was more about direct confrontation. Iwaizumi always offered an invitation to speak, but also allowed a bail out. It was one of Oikawa’s favorite things about him. 

“Iwa-chan I’m a bit torn about something.”

“I can see that, you’ve been a fidgety mess all week. What about?” 

Oikawa decides it’s better if he just shows him rather than explain, handing his laptop over for his friend to read. It’s open to Yahaba’s most recent email, one forwarded to him from ESPN Japan’s hiring team. It highlights everything from insurance benefits, to pension plans, and the astronomical salary they’re offering that Oikawa still can’t wrap his mind around. Even when he was playing pro, he didn’t think he’d seen so many zeros ever proposed right out of the gate.

Iwaizumi takes his time reading it over, face so neutral it makes Oikawa wonder if he accidentally had him reading the wrong email. He’s practically shaking in anticipation when Iwaizumi hands him back his laptop, Oikawa expectantly waiting on him to say something, and when he doesn’t he thinks he’s gonna combust. 

“Iwa-chan!”

“Yes?”

“Do you have nothing to say to that completely outrageous email I just showed you?!”

Iwaizumi laughs, and Oikawa is certain his friend has lost his mind.

“What is there to say? I think we read the same email, I have no idea what you’re so torn about.”

Oikawa looks at Iwaizumi like he’s just sprouted three heads, three crazy fucking heads. Sometimes he wondered, if he himself were way too dramatic, or if Iwaizumi just wasn’t dramatic enough; it was a fine line they walked on that topic. Oikawa tried his darnedest not to give such an exasperated response, but that was a tall order considering how obnoxious he could be when trying to get his point across. 

“Hajime!”

“Ooh first name? Damn, I’m in trouble.” 

“Oh my god, and you call me a dumbass!” 

Iwaizumi snickers into his tea, and seeing him be so silly allows Oikawa a moment to let go of some agitation. He reaches over and shuts his laptop, propping his elbows onto his knees. He releases a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, focusing on the hummingbird feeder Iwaizumi had made Daichi years ago when they’d first started dating. 

“Tooru, me and you both know you’re not ready to give up volleyball.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Oh don’t do that thing where you play dumb, asshole.” 

Iwaizumi had said it with no edge, expression soft, and Oikawa was grateful for Daichi bringing out his friend’s gentler side. Iwaizumi could truly read Oikawa with such minimal effort, years of understanding so evident at the core of their friendship. It was almost sickening how fundamental they’ve been in each other's lives, but Oikawa wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. He sat up a little straighter, trying to find confidence beneath the mountains of his insecurity. 

“I know this job isn’t just something to pass up, but taking it almost feels like the final blow of defeat to my career.”

He forces himself to look at Iwaizumi, trying to move past the embarrassment that manifests whenever he talks about this, the untimely end to his professional playing. It’s hard to not feel ashamed when it was his own fault he couldn’t play anymore. He’d driven himself into the ground, overworking for Olympic aspirations that turned into prospective dust. This all almost felt like the end to what he could have had, what was a dream so much in reach that had withered away into a nightmare. 

“I think you just need a shift in perspective. To you, this feels like the end of a chapter, and maybe it is, but what I see is the beginning of an even greater story. Think about it! You’d be an amazing sports analyst. Volleyball is such a pivotal part of your life, no one is more perfect for this job than you. Plus, you’ll probably be really popular cause people think you’re attractive for some reason, really don’t understand that still.”

“Hajime...that was so cheesy. God, Daichi has really rubbed off on you. Good thing you’re marrying him, I don’t think anyone else could handle how much of a softy you are now.” 

“Yeah that’s a lot coming from the guy who cried during Alien Resurrection.”

“Um excuse me how did you NOT cry when Christie sacrificed herself so everyone else could escape, that was fucking tragic!”

They stay like that for a while, banter about aliens and monsters and all the other childish stuff from when they were younger, audible throughout the backyard until Daichi calls them in for lunch. Afterwards, Oikawa excuses himself, ambling back towards the Adirondack chair in the grass. He pulls out his phone, staring at the number he’d dialed in for a minute or so, wondering if the decision he’s about to make is the right one. It feels like it is, Iwaizumi’s encouragement echoing past the doubt. He hits the call button, and it only takes one ring for the other line to pick up. 

“Well look who decided to actually call back their manager? Have I ever told you you’re my worst client? And I mean it! I don’t care how much money you’ve made me!’ 

“Yahaba, I want to accept the sports analyst position at ESPN Japan.” 

“...Oikawa, if I didn’t have Kenji I’d go all the way to Kyonan to kiss you!”

“I thought I was the worst?”

“Oh you still definitely are, please don’t think that’s changed, but OH MY GOD! Okay I’m gonna get in touch with one of their hiring staff RIGHT AWAY! Thank goodness you still have some common sense left in that head ugh.” 

Yahaba promptly hangs up without a goodbye, a common practice Oikawa doesn’t even bat an eyelash at nowadays. He lets his phone drop into his lap, lounging back into the chair, long arms dangling over its sides. He lets the afternoon sun soak into his cheeks, and for the first time in nine months, he is hopeful for what the future brings. 

  
  


\-----------------------------

_“The JVA here live from the medal ceremony concluding the Men’s Olympic Volleyball Finals. With a riveting battle for the gold earlier, Japan takes a historic silver to the United States, the first time in almost fifty years the Japanese men have found themselves on the podium! There were also spectacular performances from the Russian men in the semi-finals, who will be taking home the bronze.”_

\-----------------------------

It’s a quarter to seven when Daichi finds Oikawa shirtless, ironing the fifth shirt he’s picked out and tried on in the last half hour. He leans in the doorway of the guest room, going unnoticed as he watches him manically iron out every last crease in the white button down. He notes the brunette is wearing his glasses as well, the frames looking rather nice amidst the pleasant angles of his face and styled hair. Daichi clears his throat to make his presence known, Oikawa glancing up quickly from his task to acknowledge the other. 

“Well you look awfully nice Oikawa.”

“You think I look good shirtless Dai-chan? Hmm well don’t let Iwa-chan know, he’ll surely try to run me over with a tractor, and quite frankly I find that cruel to do to someone who’s already crippled!” 

Daichi dismisses the hollow flirtation, watching Oikawa examine his work. Satisfied, he begins to dress, pulling a knit sweater over the button up, and the smirk that lifts Daichi’s cheeks is almost impossible to contain. 

“Ya know if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you’re trying to impress somebody. Anyone in particular Oikawa?” 

The petulant glare Daichi earns himself is enough to make him burst into a fit of laughter, clearing not helping ease the spite glazing over Oikawa’s eyes. Daichi would admit it, he was a notorious meddler in his friends' lives, specifically in the romance department. He just really couldn’t help it. Hajime once chalked it up to all the trash American reality TV he watched with his sister growing up. Daichi just thought he was a hopeless romantic, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to say something about his two idiot friends making heart eyes at each other. 

“Dai-chan, is there ever a day where you mind your own business?” 

“I’m afraid not, but that’s probably why I’m a police detective. Anyway, when you’re done everyone’s downstairs!”

Daichi slinks off, entirely too satisfied with himself, and leaves a grumbling Oikawa to finish getting ready. When he pads into the kitchen, Hajime takes one look at him and knows his fiance had been up to no good. 

“What did you do?”

“Hajime, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“You’re good at sleuthing, but you have a shit poker face Dai. Leave Oikawa alone, the last thing I want is him sulking all night.”

“I didn’t even say what I did!”

“You didn’t have to.”

\-------------------------------

Suga is happily nursing a glass of wine, courtesy of Iwaizumi, curled up on the couch listening to Noya give a vivid retelling of his recent fishing expedition in Italy. 

“I mean you guys think tuna are big, god swordfish are ENORMOUS! The thing was probably twice my size!”

Daichi comes down the stairs then, passing by quickly, Suga not missing the deviously pleased look on his face as he disappears into the kitchen. Paying his friend no mind, he tunes back in to hear Asahi gently remind Noya that “Babe, most things are usually twice your size regardless.” Amidst Noya vehemently defending himself against his “vertical challengedness,” Suga catches the sound of feet treading down the stairs, and he pretends his heart doesn’t catch in his throat a little when he turns to see Oikawa. He’s standing there at the bottom of the stairs, and Suga feels like a teenage boy who had been nervously waiting for his prom date. But his dumb fantasy day dreaming is staunchly interrupted by Noya refocusing the commotion of his tiny being onto Suga’s dream boy. 

“Oh! You must be Iwaizumi’s friend!” 

Daichi and Iwaizumi walk in from the kitchen then, beers in hand, with great timing as always. Between introductions, greetings, and ample conversation, by the time dinner rolls around, Suga tries to not be a bit disappointed he hasn’t really gotten a chance to actually talk to Oikawa on his own accord. 

\----------------------------------

  
  


The festivities proceeding dinner ended up being a _very_ intense game of Monopoly, alcohol aided competitiveness only adding to the clamor of it all. Iwaizumi ends up with the win, drunkenly soaking in his victory before a fuming, equally inebriated Noya immediately challenges him to Jenga. As the others set up for their next game, Suga takes the opportunity to excuse himself. Between the wine and excitement, his face is horribly flushed, and when he steps onto Daichi’s back deck, the September air feels soothing against his cheeks. He leans against the banister, looking up at the expanse of the stars. 

He’d always been secretly jealous of Daichi and Iwaizumi for having a proper house, just a little bit. Not an apartment like his amidst the hustle and bustle of Kyonan, where on extra special mornings he’d wake up to the blaring of the firehouse siren rather than his alarm. Their house was a ways out of town, just far enough for the light pollution to be minimal, and the night sky to properly shine. He wasn’t too far off from getting a house himself at one point, but when life had just reverted to him not having a person to share a home with anymore, that plan had got put on an indefinite hold. 

“Getting some air?” 

Suga wasn’t one to scare easily, but the sudden appearance of the familiar voice behind him was beginning a trend of making him more on edge. He turned to see Oikawa, still as handsome as earlier, as all the other times he’d seen him. A small smile tugged at the corners of his cheeks. It was almost sheepish, like he was asking permission to join Suga, and the latter extended the invitation with a soft smile of his own. 

“Hmm, that line sounds familiar. Though I could ask you the same thing.” 

Oikawa chuckles, a silky sound that floated melodically through Suga’s ears. He leans opposite of Suga against the banister, elbows and back finding rest on the top railing. He adjusts his glasses, and Suga makes a note how wildly unfair it is how dashing Oikawa looks with or without the frames. 

“Well Suga-chan, I saw you scurry off, and I realized I never got the chance to thank you for the milk bread. It was an absolutely delicious welcome to Kyonan.” 

“Oh it's no problem at all, I’m really happy you enjoyed it! I also hope you’re enjoying your stay here. It’s not Tokyo, but there’s a lot to offer when you look in the right places.”

_Specifically behind the counter of a certain bakery wouldn’t be a terrible place to start…_

“Tokyo is cool and all, but nothing ever stops there. I like that about it here. I feel like I have the liberty to take a pause, and not feel like I’m getting left behind. Plus, you can’t see the stars in Tokyo. It’s expected from being in a city, but it's still a shame.”

Suga nods, dutifully trying to ignore how well the light from the moon contours Oikawa’s jawline. 

“And getting to spend time with Hajime was something I didn’t know I needed, but I really did. I’d been so consumed with my career the past couple of years I didn’t get to see him all that often, maybe once or twice a year. I’m really grateful to get to have quality time with him before he and Daichi fall into married life, though they’ve been so far up each other's asses for years already I feel like they’ve been married forever.” 

Suga erupted with a cackle at that, not too proud of how ungodly of a noise it was, but Oikawa hadn’t seemed to mind. 

“Right? I love them, but they’re so perfect for each other it’s almost insufferable sometimes. What do you do for work exactly?” 

There’s a very brief moment where Suga catches a flash of worry flit across Oikawa’s face. It’s very subtle, and probably would have been easily missed if Suga hadn’t been looking directly at him, but the apprehension at Suga’s question settles very clearly in Oikawa’s posture. He’s guarded, and Suga would be damned if he wasn’t sympathetic to that. 

“I’m sorry that was forward of me-”

“No it’s alright...um say, does the National Men’s Volleyball Team ring any bells?” 

Suga looks at Oikawa, confused for all about five seconds before remembering an aisle of Kellogs boxes at the supermarket plastered with Olympic athletes on their covers. God, how could he be so fucking dumb?

“Holy shit, you’re that Oikawa Tooru?” 

Oikawa looks immediately regretful at the information he’d just shared, and it dawns on Suga that he probably thinks he’s some crazy annoying fan, which he doesn’t blame him for considering his reaction. 

“Honestly, I don’t keep up with volleyball much these days, but I was kinda forced to look at you every time I went food shopping for a while.” 

He cracks a big smile, and he’s relieved to see a slight ease in Oikawa’s shoulders. 

“Well being on a cereal box is cool and everything, but I think owning your own business warrants it’s own credit.” 

Suga all but loses it at that, bent over on the verge of tears from laughing so hard. It takes him a second to come back down to a string of giggles, finally looking to Oikawa who’s expression was one beyond concern and confusion. 

_Oh, he wasn’t being sarcastic?_

“I’m sorry that’s very flattering, but I think being a professional athlete is way more substantial than me making croissants.” 

Oikawa takes a minute to just look at Suga, stare almost blank, and it annoys him a little he can’t read behind that expression. 

“Was a professional athlete…”

_Oh._

“And I disagree. Yeah I had to work hard, but I don’t think that should negate how difficult owning and operating a business is. I grew up in my Oba-chan’s corner store, and I saw how hard she worked everyday. It’s a significant commitment, and I think it's very telling of a persons’ character being able to accomplish something like that. Dedication and diligence are admirable, and that’s coming from a dude who almost went to the Olympics so I think you can take my word for it.” 

He concludes his statement with an air of chagrin, like he wanted to mourn his words. But Suga certainly didn’t want to, and the way the tinge of red returned to his cheeks was very telling of that. 

“Wow, I mean hey if you’re gonna compliment me like that then I should keep you around more often!” 

_Yeah dismiss him being genuinely kind with a joke, god Suga you’re such a stupid fuc-_

“Well I definitely wouldn’t complain about that.” 

_Say what now?_

When Suga looks back to Oikawa, he’s purposefully ignoring his gaze, and even in the dim light on the deck it's easy to see the crimson shade decorating the tips of his ears. It takes Suga a couple of seconds to recognize that Oikawa is being bashful cause he very much just implied wanting to see Suga more, and if that alone doesn’t make him want to absolutely burst at the seams, then clearly he doesn’t understand the definition of being flustered. 

Oikawa looks moments away from wanting to melt into a puddle, and before Suga can rebuttal the sliding door of the deck swooshes open, and Daichi stands in the entryway with an all too impish grin on his face. Suga never wanted to punch someone so bad in his whole fucking life. 

“Well that’s where you two ran off to. Everyone else got bored of Jenga really quick, so they’re setting up Life instead. You guys care to join us?” 

It was almost commendable how committed Daichi was to being an insufferable little shit sometimes, but Suga had never been so entirely over it than he was at this moment. He felt immensely gratified to see Oikawa’s spiteful glare casted towards the doorway. At least he wasn’t alone in his new found mission to throttle his best friend. 

_Meddling piece of-_

“Dai-chan, need I remind you who’s paying for your honeymoon as a very amazing, and _expensive_ wedding gift to you and my dear friend.” 

It’s so clearly a hollow threat, but the _try me_ challenge in Oikawa’s eyes is enough to send Daichi grumbling off. Suga wonders if he should be impressed or terrified, a mix of both feels suitable. 

“Petty, I like your style.” 

“Iwa-chan definitely has a well thought out and documented slide show about why he fervently disagrees with you, but I’ll take the brownie points.” 

They share a laugh, but it quickly dies off, leaving the unresolved anticipation of their conversation before Daichi’s entrance. Suga looks to his feet, suddenly very fascinated with the uneven cuffs of his jeans. He is scrambling for something to say, but the words are anchored to his tongue. I’d been years since he actually found someone attractive enough to want to talk to them, hell, even get so far as to actually speak to them! He felt so juvenile trying to navigate this world again, where the uncertainty of mutually reciprocated interest wasn’t equally as crushing as a pile of bricks. Thankfully Oikawa had enough valor for both of their dumbasses. 

“Considering what just happened, and pretty much every other time we’ve interacted before this, I think it would be really nice to get to hangout with you without one of our idiot friends interrupting us?” 

He’s looking at Suga so expectantly, and the regret from earlier was melding into the creases of his shaky smile. 

“I’d really like that Oikawa.” 

It’s simple, but it’s all Suga can muster up from underneath the butterflies swarming his stomach, and the toothy grin he receives in return makes them flutter harder. 

They stay out there for a while, going on about any and anything, every and everything. Some flowers close in the evening, but that night the moon and stars watched the bud of a relationship begin to grow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was all certainly eventful! This chapter is definitely my favorite so far, and I'm so excited for you guys to see the rest of this story unfold because it definitely starts to pickup from here. I would like to give a special shoutout to PR manager Yahaba, and meddling detective Daichi for being the true unsung heroes of this chapter. Also, I'd like to very much apologize for this being several days late. I'm just a little lady in grad school and working two jobs, I am truly trying my best. Still, thank you guys so much, and just bare with me if updates aren't always super consistent. See you next time!


	7. Budding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday had gone exceptionally well, and before he’d really even realized, Suga was spending a lot of his free time with Oikawa. Truthfully, he couldn’t find any part of him that had a complaint about this.

It’s the following Saturday when Suga finds himself in an intense battle with the stubborn end of his cowlick. The one alfalfa sprout he’s ashamed to call his hair is absolutely refusing to go down. It was a silly notion in the first place, to think that after twenty seven years it would just magically blend in with the rest of his hair, but he supposes he wasn’t thinking quite clearly considering the company he was about to meet. 

Oikawa had asked him to hangout, just the two of them, and the reality of it hadn’t hit Suga until he did a last second once over of himself in the mirror on his way out. And that goddamn hair, he swore if it had a voice it would be taunting him right now. He resigned from his efforts with a heavy sigh, still not entirely satisfied with the reflection that stared back at him in the mirror. His outfit wasn’t terrible, a pair of chinos, a button down, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes. It wasn’t the pinnacle of fashion, but it was thought out and put together.

Put together...everyone always told Suga he was “put together”. He certainly didn’t feel that way looking back at himself. Tired. He noted the remnants of faded dark circles, soft hues of purple clouding the inner corners under his eye, and tried to push down how exhausting the week had been, tried his darnedest to combat his insecurity, to not let it spiral down the tube of his low self esteem. 

Suga didn’t think he was ugly, but he didn’t find himself particularly handsome either. To his standard he had an average face, regardless of the opposing insistence of those he was close with. And compared to Oikawa, who’s features were feather swept and sharp all at once, he definitely didn’t feel just deeming his looks handsome.

Refraining from pouting at the discontent his mirror was providing, he glances down at his watch and knows he needs to get going if he wants to meet Oikawa on time. He takes one last look at himself, smoothing down the hairline wrinkles in his chinos, and books it out the door before he can criticize himself further. However he may feel about his appearance, there was a ridiculously attractive, charming man waiting for his company, and god be damned if he was about to be late because he was too busy fretting over himself. Descending the stairs of his building, he tries to pretend he isn’t nervous. 

\------------------------

  
  


_“Koushi...look I’m...god fucking dammit, why is this so hard?”_

_“Because you’re making it hard, Eita.”_

_“Don’t be like that.”_

_“Don’t be like what?! Tell me what I’m supposed to be like right now, huh? You want me to sit here and be okay with this? Act like you’re not ripping my whole entire world apart? You have to absolutely be joking, you’re not that cruel.”_

_“Koushi...I’m sorry, but I need to do-”_

_“No, cut that out. You don’t need to do anything, you want to. Don’t look me in the eyes and give me that bullshit, you want to! So fine, that’s fine. Do whatever you want Eita, I don’t care anymore.”_

\----------------------

For a man who at one point was the constant subject of thirst tweets, Oikawa was particularly bad at living up to the fantasy man the online world had portrayed him to be. Granted, he did partake in a fair amount of craft that went into his suave persona. Between team interviews and the rowdy social media stans, Japan’s National Team had quickly established a fan base for their former first string setter, and god was Oikawa nothing like what the world thought he was. 

At minimal interaction he was definitely something to be desired, gorgeous looks with the athletic prowess and abundant charm to match. But if they’d known him, all the faces behind the fan accounts and borderline inappropriate tweets, many would certainly reconsider how attractive they found him. Because really, what was a pretty face if the person behind it was a slow motion train wreck? 

Some days, Oikawa felt like his brain was a hurricane, pelting winds and rain flooding and crashing against his clearer thoughts, drowning them under the sound of angry air and vengeful waves. He cannot remember a time in his life that he hadn’t been hard on himself. A perfectionist. Do it right, and if you don’t do it again till you do, and again, and again, and again, and then again after that. If you’re gonna hit it, hit it till it breaks. Broken gusts used to love filling the space in his head with those toxic mantras, the motto's for a life that was destined for failure. He’d spent the better half of twenty six years trying to navigate a cargo plane through a cyclone, and the crash had left a stillness of silence so loud it nearly drove him mad. 

He knew it, that he was hard to love. Stubborn, fauxly arrogant, always in his head, consumed by his passions. It wasn’t easy to stick around a natural disaster. Nor was it easy to be lonely, but Oikawa had assuaged that with volleyball and meaningless flings. He’d practice his jump serves till his palms cracked and bled, and fucked strangers till he forgot how miserable it was to come home to an empty apartment. 

It dawned on him that Saturday morning, that he would be meeting up with Suga to hangout, and it almost felt impossible up until this point that Oikawa would find an interest in someone past the buzz of sake, and tangled bed sheets, a genuine attraction founded in a want for more than a baseless pastime that nullified him during lonesome hours. He found it nearly infeasible that someone could get past all his bullshit, actually wish to stay around after all the baggage gets unloaded. Though, he figured there had to be a time where he crawled out from the wreckage of his plane crash, broken, bruised and vulnerable. He supposed he had to bare himself, all of himself, if he ever wanted to make formative relationships past his childhood best friend and old teammates, and if feeling like he was halfway between hurling up his breakfast and passing out was part of that process, then he’d have to take it in stride like an actual, functioning adult, or at least attempt to do so. 

Oikawa had suggested meeting at one of the few coffee places in Kyonan. Coincidentally, he happened to pick the one located right across the street from Suga’s shop. Oikawa offhandedly thought Suga probably wouldn’t want work taunting him from across the way on his day off, but the other had insisted it was fine. Funny, because sitting there at a table for two waiting for Suga to arrive, Oikawa felt anything but fine. He honestly couldn’t recall the last time he’d actually been on a proper date, if that’s what this was. Oikawa honestly didn’t know, they hadn’t put a title on their outing, and that was equally both relieving and tortuous. Thankfully, Iwaizumi shooed him out of the house before Daichi had a chance to frazzle Oikawa even more than he already was, fidgeting as he peeled the fake marble paint decorating the cafe table. He wanted to reprimand himself for being early, too eager to spend time with Suga away from the prying eyes of their friends. 

_Well really one friend in particular, Mr. Fucking Meddling Dai-chan-_

“Oh, glad to see I’m not the only one who’s early!”

Oikawa swears he almost gives himself whiplash how quickly he turns his focus from mutilating the table to his new company. Suga throws an amused smirk in his direction, mercifully sparing him the laugh he’s clearly trying to contain for his sake. Almost twenty years of doing sports, and nine months post injury Oikawa all of a sudden turns into a spaz. 

He takes a second to take in Suga’s attire, and really, he never thought someone could look so good in simple street clothes up until this moment. Suga had a lithe frame, but without the apron, and open button up, Oikawa could now truly see Suga was _far_ from out of shape. He desperately tried not to think about the sliver of pale, lean stomach that peaked out when the other adjusted to sit down, tucked the desire to reach out and tease his fingers against it far back into the sinful corners of his mind. 

_God, I’m fucked._

“I saw when I walked in you didn’t have a drink, so I ordered you something.” 

Suga says it with a dust of pink highlighting his pretty cheeks, and Oikawa quirks an eyebrow instead of thinking of ways to continue making Suga’s face tinge more beautiful hues.

“You know my coffee order?”

Apparently, Oikawa didn’t have to make much of an effort, because Suga’s cheeks practically go aflame at his inquiry. Sure, they hadn’t known each other long, but Oikawa had yet to see Suga act even the tiniest bit unnerved in his presence. Call him crazy, but maybe this outing he wasn’t entirely positive was a date, was _actually_ a date. It felt selfish, but seeing the other man slightly rattled gave him the smallest inkling of confidence to try and enjoy himself, and get Suga to hopefully enjoy himself as well. 

“Well, I remember somewhere in all the blabbering we did Saturday you said how much you miss the cortados from that one coffee place in the Koenji district back in Tokyo, so umm yeah that’s what I ordered you. Hope that’s okay?” 

It’s posed to Oikawa like a question, self conscious about actually taking the care to listen to even the frivolous things they speak about, phrases it like he needs to approve of Suga’s actions. Oikawa can hardly stand to see the other man so unsure of himself. He gives a grateful smile, fingers lightly brushing as he takes the coffee cup from Suga’s grasp. It was pretty rich, two grown men in the middle of this busy cafe stupidly blushing at each other; their friends would be having a field day if they were there. Oikawa finds his stride again against the awareness of heat in his ears. 

“Thank you Suga-chan. If I also remember correctly, you said you really like the park? I was thinking we could head down there with our drinks?”

Oikawa had functioning eyes, one would truly have to be blind not to see how absolutely stunning Suga was. But wow, when he smiled, all bright and warm, at Oikawa, for Oikawa, for the words he simply uttered, he couldn’t think of anything more beautiful he’d seen. 

“Awfully thoughtful, I think that sounds perfect.” 

“Well after you then.”

They escape the bustle of the coffee shop, taking a leisurely pace to the park. They’re both lost in a conversation that seems to have no beginning or end, and if their hands brush more than just a couple times, neither man says a word about it. 

\---------------------

_“Hey Suga what’s-”_

_“DAICHI DAICHI DAICHI DAICHI I’M GETTING MARRIED!”_

\----------------------

Saturday had gone exceptionally well, and before he’d really even realized, Suga was spending a lot of his free time with Oikawa. Truthfully, he couldn’t find any part of him that had a complaint about this. 

“So, tell me again why you think it’d ever be okay to put something this fucking spicy in your mouth?!”

“Jeez, I really didn’t believe Iwaizumi when he said you could be whiny. I stand corrected.”

The indignant huff is all Suga needed for a satisfactory grin to pull up the corners of his lips. It was certainly devious, learning how absolutely fun it was to tease Oikawa, how _easy_ it was. 

They were in Suga’s kitchen, the intention of a promise for Suga to make Oikawa dinner not necessarily going as planned. In fairness, Suga really had to start meditating how much spice he used for other’s when he cooked, not everyone enjoyed melting their face off. 

“Yeah fine, make fun of me because I don’t enjoy the taste of Satan's asshole with my tofu!”

“Oikawa, so vulgar!”

“Ugh, why do I hangout with you?”

An eye roll, but no malice, only endearment. It makes Suga’s heart clench just a little tighter behind his apron. 

\--------------------

_“God! Suga I’ve called you like eight times in the last hour, why haven’t you been picking up? Asahi wants your opinion on the boutonnieres, and he says he couldn’t get a hold of you. We think the white narcissus is nice, but it’s your wedding so we just want your final input.”_

_“Daichi...Eita’s gone.”_

_“Suga, what do you mean he’s gone? Like is he missing? Do you need me to send some officers over? I can radio one of my coworkers-”_

_“No Dai...he left me…”_

\---------------------

“Suga-chan, would you believe me if I said I haven’t been to the beach in almost three years?” 

“Well, I think we should certainly change that then.”

A lazy Sunday had found them with sand dipped toes on the shore of Hota Beach, the sun beginning its journey down the horizon. Suga knew it was getting late, that he had an early morning tomorrow, the same early morning he’d become so accustomed to. And he would never complain, he loved his job, cherished the tranquility that accompanied the hours before many were awake. But right now, that anticipatory bubble of dread that always dignified the end of the weekend was pooling in the pit of his gut. 

It felt cruel for a day like this to have to come to an end, one full of sun kissed skin and sea water smiles. One where Suga found himself sitting next to Oikawa on a slightly damp blanket, thighs just shy of being pressed against each other. The golden glow of sunset melted into Oikawa’s being. He was molten, almost shining so bright it hurt to look at him. Suga didn’t care, he would look at him till he went blind if beachy hair and freckled shoulders were the last thing he would be blessed to see. 

“Suga, thank you for bringing me here today.” 

“Koushi.”

He’d looked away immediately after his utterance, trying not to admonish himself for speaking so impulsively. He’d felt like he was in a trance, watching evening light dance across Oikawa’s cheekbones, and it made him speak to a sliver of a truth that was slowly becoming less and less avoidable. His focus had settled on the rising tide, but he could see Oikawa turn to him from his peripherals, expectancy diminutive in his gaze, but even still Suga felt its insistence. Cowardice never brought him achievement, so he willed himself to fill the empty space he’d created. 

“You can call me Koushi.” 

Oikawa smiled, and yeah, Suga would be more than a happy man if that was the last thing his eyes ever saw. 

“Okay, then call me Tooru.” 

Some days should just never end. 

\----------------------

_“Suga just hear me out, Hajime has this really great friend who I think would be really good for you!”_

_“Oh yeah, why do you think that?”_

_“Because he’s very nice, and he’s also ugh...super tall!”_

_“Jeez Dai, you make my standards sound so low. You wound me, truly.”_

\-----------------------

September breezed by in a blur of weekend outings and warm days, giving way to the fledglings of autumn October brought. Oikawa had just finished a call with Yahaba, finalizing some details for his return in November. He was nestled in his favorite Adirondack chair out back, idly scrolling through a briefing email from ESPN Japan’s Analyst Department, taking long, languid sips from his coffee mug; though in his world, solace ran on a thin clock. 

“How was the beach yesterday?”

Oikawa practically jumped out of his skin, wide eyes turning to take in his best friend looming over his shoulder.

“Jesus Iwa-chan! I didn’t even hear you walk up, Daichi is rubbing off on you in all the wrong ways.” 

His lewd joke fell flat under Iwaizumi’s steely gaze, the other man’s expression not faltering to Oikawa’s shit sense of humor. Though it rarely did, this time was different. This was a look reserved for Oikawa only, specifically when he did something wrong. Even as adults, Iwaizumi was nothing short of intimidating, and Oikawa slightly resented him for it. 

“Does Suga know you’re leaving in November?

“Excuse me?”

“Oikawa, I did not fucking stutter.”

This made Oikawa sit up a little straighter, starting to feel defensive under his friend’s scrutinizing gaze. 

“Iwa-chan, what’re you getting at?”

“Shittykawa you’re not as stupid as you like to let on, you know what I’m getting at.”

“Sure, I just wanna hear you say it.” 

It was Oikawa’s turn to glower, hardening his stare against Iwaizumi’s. It felt wrong of him to feel proud when his friend’s glare faltered, shifting from frustration to concern. He hated where this conversation was going. 

“Look, I just think you should spare Suga, and especially spare yourself some pain. The wedding is at the end of the month, and you have the job opportunity of a lifetime waiting for you back in Tokyo. Let me remind you that you don’t plan on staying here forever. You are a temporary fixture in this man’s life, stop getting either of your hopes up before you both get hurt, okay?” 

Oikawa is quiet to Iwaizumi’s exclamation, choosing to fiddle with the drawstring of his old National Team hoodie instead of meeting his eyes. 

“Daichi’s making donburi for lunch, I’ll come get you when it’s ready.”

And then Oikawa is alone. 

The consistency of this statement in conjunction with his life has become simply tragic. 

August seems so long ago, yet like it happened just yesterday. It’s the beginning of October when Oikawa finds himself in Kyonan, Tokyo roughly thirty something days ahead of him in the distance. He has no idea what he’s gonna do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, well look who decided to show up two weeks late to the party? Here marks the tragedy of having 2 jobs and being in grad school, please lay my scholarships and grants on my grave. Thank you for your understanding and patience, y'all make my heart swell with joy! 
> 
> (Side Note: If Google tries to correct Oikawa to Okinawa one more time I will burst)


	8. Flowering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The walls of Suga’s apartment kept open ears as a tree gracelessly tumbled to the forest floor.

Oikawa had always thought of himself as a tree. A faculty for growth, an entity grounded in natural talent, determination, and resilience.

How seamlessly his injury uprooted him made him realize how foolish he’d been all this time. 

He felt maybe he wasn’t a tree, lacking the sturdy composition he’d associated with himself. Maybe he was deluded this whole time.

What if he was more like a flower. Pretty, fragile petals, easily ripped and torn. Maybe all this time strength had been a diminutive illusion. One that originated small, but slowly began to manifest into something larger. Something that asphyxiated the truth, moss enveloping honesty. A total takeover of logic and understanding. Yeah, that felt accurate. Or maybe Oikawa was a tree, whose roots slowly lost traction over the years, withering under the wear of unhealthy habits and high aspirations. And then one day, it gave its way from the soil. 

Snapped. Toppled. Fell. 

People often wonder if a tree makes any sound in a forest if no one’s around. If there’s any noise when it makes its grand tumble to the ground.

The walls of Oikawa’s apartment back in Tokyo know this answer. 

\----------------

_ “Shittykawa do you know what time it is in Japan right now? I swear I could kick your ass, why are you calling me?” _

_ “Iwa-chan, I got signed to the National Team!” _

_ “Holy shit.” _

_ “I’m coming home!” _

\---------------

After their beach outing, Suga had asked for a redo of dinner, since the first try had left Oikawa without the ability to taste normally several days afterward . The rational side of his brain, the one that coincidentally sounded a lot like Iwaizumi, knew how sour of an idea it was. He needed to say no. It was glaringly obvious, screaming loudly in his face in bright obnoxious, neon signage. 

But he couldn’t find it in himself to do so. 

Which is why he found himself standing outside the door of Suga’s apartment building. 

Oikawa couldn’t find it in himself to not be selfish. He was, inherently so since his earliest memories. He was shit at sharing, and he was equally, if not more shit at letting go. And he didn’t want to let go of Suga. Even the mere fledglings of romantic possibility between them was more than Oikawa had managed to garner over the past couple years, enough to turn weeds to flowers blooming in his chest. He’d let his lungs be engulfed by green if it meant not having to let Suga go. The prospect of leaving was suffocating enough. 

Oikawa rang the buzzer to Suga’s apartment. 

Soil around fragile roots began to erode. 

  
  


\-----------------

_ “So, you’re really going to Brazil?” _

_ “Yeah, and you’re really going to California huh?” _

_ “Yeah.”  _

_ “Well Iwa-chan the only thing I ask, is don’t go loving America so much you’ll never wanna come home.” _

_ “Same goes for you then too, I can’t have my best friend a million time zones away.” _

_ “There’s actually only about 24 times zones, jeez and you say I’m the dramatic one!” _

_ “Shittykawa, don’t make me kick your ass.”  _

\----------------

“Where you headed off too?”

“Hmm, nosy still aren’t we Iwa-chan?”

“I shouldn’t even ask at this point.”

“No, you really shouldn’t” 

“I hope you’re going over there to tell him you’re leaving after the wedding.”

“I hope you’d start minding your own business.” 

“I would, you just make it exceptionally hard to do so.”

“Whatever, bye.”

“Yeah, bye.”

\----------------

_ “So you’re really quitting volleyball after high school?” _

_ “...Yeah, you’re really not mad?” _

_ “At first I was yeah, I won’t lie. I just always thought about us playing pro together, but I knew volleyball wasn’t always gonna be forever for you.”  _

_ “I know I’m sorry-” _

_ “Iwa-chan, you know you don’t have to apologize. Besides, you going into sports science means you can help me not get hurt all the time!” _

_ “Hmmm, as if. You don’t even listen to me half the time, what makes you think you’ll listen to me but with a degree?” _

_ “I don’t know Dr. Iwa-chan sounds a lot cooler than just regular Iwa-chan, so maybe it’ll give me incentive to stop being so stubborn!” _

_ “I truly dream of a day where that’s the case.” _

\------------------

If you had asked Oikawa what he wanted to be when he grew up, the answer had been the same till volleyball found relevancy in his branches. When he and Iwaizumi were kids, it was always an astronomer, because he was a little boy with glow in the dark planets on his ceiling, and the notion of the space and beyond was the absolute coolest thing for him to try and wrap his mind around. It was still a concept that fascinated him. He wondered if maybe he had become an astronomer, it would have stopped him from turning into a black hole. Or maybe he was destined to be this way, created to suck everything around him into the despair of the void, leaving behind nothing in its wake. The brutality of destruction was always more telling when it lacked carnage, and Oikawa wondered if Suga would survive the vastness of space he was slowly leaving behind in his life. 

“Earth to Tooru, this is Suga speaking, do you copy? Or is me talking about over mixing cake batter too boring, because if so I understand.” 

Roots made their first glance to the sky. 

“No you’re not boring me, sorry sorry…I’m just kinda all over the place right now.”

“I can see, anything the matter in particular?”

If you could cock words like shotgun ammo, Suga accomplished just that brilliantly without a shred of awareness. Oikawa felt he was teetering on the edge of digging his own grave. 

“And I’ll know if you’re not telling the truth. I realized quickly you’re kind of crap at lying.”

The gun was loaded, and the target was a bullseye pinned on Oikawa’s pride. 

“Iwa-chan and I may have gotten into a bit of a disagreement...”

This had garnered Suga’s full attention, just as Oikawa had anticipated. The other man threw a lid over the simmering pan, turning from the stove with an arched brow in tow. 

“Oh? What about?” 

But half truths can help dodge bullets.

“Nothing too serious. I think he’s just stressed about the wedding, and we got snippy with each other.”

“Is that all?”

It was probably him overthinking, but Oikawa felt like he was under the harsh glare of interrogation room fluorescents, the artificial light bringing a fine sweat to his brow. Or maybe it was the nerves from blatantly lying to the man who held his affections. He vaguely thought denial probably looked quite ugly on him. 

_ You should stop being a selfish prick and just tell him you’re leaving.  _

“Ya know what never mind, let’s not talk about this right now. You look like if I ask you one more question your brain will explode. Here, eat.” 

A beautiful plate of pasta was slid in front of him, the aroma of the dish foreign but still smelling absolutely fragrant and divine. Suga even took the time to freshly grate cheese and drizzle olive oil as a finishing touch, and as Oikawa watched the other man put tongue to cheek as he struggled to open a bottle of wine, Oikawa decided he wanted this forever. But forever wasn’t in the cards for them, and unfortunately this wasn’t mutual knowledge. 

The cork of the bottle came out with a punctuated pop, and Oikawa wanted to hate how absolutely fond he felt watching Suga’s small victory dance as he poured them each a glass. He looked at the wine placed in front of him, watching the blushed drink swirl around the glasses circumference, and he wondered if he could try and drown in five ounces of liquid. 

“ À votre santé !”

Suga was eagerly holding his glass out for Oikawa to clink, and the other couldn’t help but give into his antics. He gingerly tapped their glasses together, tongue heavy as he took a quick sip. 

“What, not a kanpai kinda guy?”

“Well when you spend five years in France for culinary school, some habits linger.”

“And here we are, eating Italian.”

“Stop sassing me and eat your goddamn food you ingrate.” 

And Oikawa would be foolish not to listen to a beautiful man who made him equally beautiful food. So he dug in, greedily and hungrily like he did with most other things in his life, and he tried to not think about how amazing it would be to have a future of love alongside wonderful dinners, goofy victory dances, and legs brushing during meals seated at the breakfast counter. 

\-------------------

_ “Hello? Shittykawa? Why are you on the phone with me right now when you’re supposed to be on the court in like two minutes?” _

_ “Iwa-chan, I’m gonna fucking barf.” _

_ “Oikawa-” _

_ “I’m the first on the line up to serve, I START THE GAME! What if I wiff, god at my first National Team match?! I would just seppuku right in the middle of the court. Kuroo’s little pudding head boyfriend is kinda a weirdo, I'm sure he has a sword I could borrow, right? And what if my tosses are lousy? Ushiwaka will not let me hear the end of it, and then Bokuto will get all sappy and I can’t handle his pitiful looks, they give me second hand awkward real bad when he casts them towards Shirabu-chan in practice. I can’t fuck up, they just got that Miya asshole on the development team. It’s like they’re already trying to replace me and they’re just looking for an excuse! What if-” _

_ “Oikawa!” _

_ “Sorry sorry-” _

_ “You’re a setter right?” _

_ “Iwa-chan-” _

_ “Answer the question.” _

_ “...Yes.” _

_ “Then don’t doubt yourself. I believe in you okay? Now go show Japan what’s up, and don’t make Dai and I feel like we wasted our money on these courtside tickets.” _

_ “Iwa-chan, I gave you guys those tickets for free.” _

_ “Get on the court Assikawa.” _

_ “I am, I am...Hey Hajime?” _

_ “What?” _

_ “Thank you.” _

\---------------------

Even a content stomach full of pasta didn’t stop the world from spinning when Oikawa shut his eyes for too long, for words to stumble from his lips in a haphazard attempt at making a mostly coherent sentence. He was drunk, and by the high flush of Suga’s cheeks and horribly too loud cackle that kept erupting from his chest, he also wasn’t anywhere close to sober. 

Since their first glass at dinner, they’d managed to plow their way through a bottle and a half of wine, the remaining half bottle taunting them from the coffee table. There was a very abandoned episode of a K-drama, that they were halfheartedly watching in the first place, flowing as background noise to Suga’s nonsensical chortling. It was entirely too cute for Oikawa to handle, and lacking the inhibition to control himself was becoming more of a challenge he didn’t think he’d win against. 

Quite frankly, he didn’t even want to try and put up a fight. 

Suga shot a devious look up at Oikawa through long lashes, eyes slightly glazed and skin pink with rosẻ. It made Oikawa want to break the distance of decorative pillows and couch cushion between them and devour him whole. 

“Tooru, the wine looks so abandoned. Let’s finish it yeah?” 

“Kou-chan, don’t you think we’ve had plenty?” 

The other man spluttered with another one of his grotesque laughs, and Oikawa was too far gone to admonish himself for finding it anything but endearing. 

“Excuse me sir, that is perfectly good wine all the way from Bordeaux. It’s getting finished, so gimme your glass!” 

Oikawa obliges, reveling in the sensation of their fingers brushing as he hands Suga his wine glass, thinks about how fantastic it would be to intentionally run his hands along all the other parts of Suga, all the wonderful noises he could elicit from that stupidly pretty mouth of his.

When Suga all but forces the glass back into Oikawa’s hand, he realizes how impossibly close the other man had gotten to him. Their knees knocked together as Suga saluted for another cheers, practically spilling the contents of his cup all over Oikawa’s pants. 

“Another kanpai? What’re we celebrating this time?” 

Their glasses met in another audible clink, and Oikawa stayed mindful of the way the tendons in Suga’s neck flexed when he took a drink. Eyes lingering too long on the dip of the other man’s collar bone below his crew neck, he was surprised to look up to Suga leering in closer, drunken smile ghosting his lips. 

“Call it practice for Daichi and Hajime’s wedding. Fuck, even call it a toast to only one more month of having to listen to wedding planning crap!”

Oikawa chuckled as Suga took another sizable gulp of his drink, a drop clumsily cascading down the base of his chin, and the temptation to lean forward and lick it clean buzzed beneath his skin. The other man settled against Oikawa’s side then, shoulder to shoulder, mussed silver strands of hair tickling the side of his neck. 

“Are you also tired of listening to them fret over seating arrangements and reception playlists?”

“Yeah definitely that. Also kinda just sick of getting what I almost had shoved down my throat for the last year and a half.” 

The sheen of something deeper than trivial frustration cast darkly over Suga’s eyes, attempting to cover itself with a dismissive chuckle into his wine glass. Oikawa had questions, sober one’s somewhere beneath the thrumming of alcohol in his veins, but Suga’s drunken tongue was less inept than his own. 

“Tooru, have you ever been engaged?” 

“Can’t say I have been Kou-chan.” 

“Well I have.”

“...oh.”

_ Oh. _

“You look like you have a lot of questions.” 

Oikawa was scrambling for something to say, to save face against the memories of pain veiling over Suga’s tepid smile. 

“I mean yeah, but ugh do you um...do you wanna talk about it?”

“No I really don’t.”

“Oh, okay then...”

“I want to do something else instead.” 

“Okay ugh...that’s cool. We can like put on something else to watch or-”

Suga leaned in then, lips ghosting over the shell of Oikawa’s ear, teeth grazing just enough over the tender cartilage. The action rose goosebumps along his forearms, reaching down into the pit of his stomach to anchor itself to his lecherous want.

“I want you to kiss me.” 

The better half of his conscious rattled against his skull, fighting loudly against the push back of narrow minded white noise consuming his thoughts. He needed to say no. It was glaringly obvious, screaming loudly in his face in bright obnoxious, neon signage.

But he couldn’t find it in himself to do so. 

He bridged the minuscule gap left between them without a moment of hesitation, rushing forward and capturing Suga’s mouth in a numbing kiss. 

A kiss, one that set him ablaze, made Oikawa light-headed with possibility, with opportunity. The opportunity to map the landscape of Suga under the pad’s of his fingers, memorize the concaves and divots of his body underneath willing palms. 

Suga reciprocated with equal fervor, making quick work of hoisting himself into Oikawa’s lap. Eager hands migrated from fisting his hair to cupping his jaw, firmly cementing his attention under the salacious spell of Suga’s gaze. 

“Tooru, I want you.” 

And Oikawa fell to shambles beneath him, letting every aching desire for the touch he’d been craving to give be felt through the bruises he was pressing into Suga’s hip bones. He was unweaving the stitches of his being, untangling his roots underneath the coaxing of his mouth against his collarbone, setting him free from the soil that kept him bound. 

Suga heaved Oikawa up by the rumpled collar of his shirt, lustful, greedy hands yanking him down the hall to his bedroom. His back hit the mattress, and he let the slide of calloused fingers under his shirt consume him in his entirety. 

It would soon come to be one of Oikawa’s greatest regrets. 

The walls of Suga’s apartment kept open ears as a tree gracelessly tumbled to the forest floor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm like that one person in your class that rolls up late to lecture with Starbucks and a breakfast sandwich updating this story I swear. Anywho, oh my oh my wasn't that quite the time!? I hope no one wants to murder me for the absolute devastation I am about to unleash on our beautiful boys, but alas it's what y'all came for anyway, right? 
> 
> I'm super excited we are so close to 1,000 hits I could just honestly die. Thank you guys so much for being so supportive of this story! I wanna interact with y'all more, so go hit me up on Tumblr at princess-banan and we can nerd out together or just chat! (I don't have a Twitter, guess that makes me a scrub lol) 
> 
> Oh and lastly, my beautiful artists out there, I would LOVE to commission some of y'all during these challenging financial times we are facing. I am incredibly fortunate to have had job security through this pandemic, and I want to support our community with dope art for my story. Tis a win win for everybody, yeah? 
> 
> See y'all next time, and come yell at me on Tumblr!


	9. Hiatus Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry this is not the end!

Hey friends! So I know this is a typically dreaded kinda ordeal to be getting instead of an actual chapter update, but alas I have found myself at the mercy of my Master's degree program burying me alive with work (wooooooooo)!

So with that being said, Narcissus will be taking a tiny little break till October when things mellow out a bit more. I know I haven't posted since mid-July (haha whoops?), but I felt that I couldn't leave y'all hanging even more than I already have without a notice of some kind. 

I love this fic so much, and I'm still shocked at the reception I've gotten towards it, and I can 100% say this is not the end of this story! My brain is just tired and needs a little break. And by break I mean I'm going to pour even more of myself into my graduate work and try not to cry about how much I just love plants so much I'm pursuing a second degree in it that lowkey (highkey) makes me wanna blow my freaking brains out cause higher education is a gift and a plague all at once.

Anyway, I just wanted to thank everyone who has supported this fic thus far, you guys don't understand how much you've made my whole year with your comments, they make my heart so full. The community on here is so beautiful, kind, and supportive and its been such a freaking joy to share my mediocre work with y'all. 

I hope everyone is staying safe, be well, and if you wanna chat and be friends amidst this hiatus feel free to hit me up on my Tumblr at **princess-banan** (its like half a meme half Haikyuu blog)

See you later.

Savanna


	10. Hiatus Update (We're Back Bitches)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Me: *once again hiding behind my coffee cup pretending I'm not late to lecture again*

So...I’m back!

Back as a fresh grad program graduate, I am FINALLY gonna give this poor story the time of day, because Jesus Christ I neglected this poor baby hard.

I just wanted to let you guys know there will be an update coming this Friday, so hold on to ya butts y’all shits about to get crazy!

Also, I would like to formally apologize for leaving things off on such a cliffhanger, wow lol please no one stab me I love you all so much.

Much love, -Sav


End file.
